The Three Funerals of James T Kirk
by Synthesis Landale
Summary: Kirk/Spock slash. James T. Kirk had three funerals; one for show, one on a desolate rock, and one in the rain.


The first time James T. Kirk was buried, Spock, Bones and the rest of the Enterprise crew stood over the empty coffin of James T. Kirk. Eulogies were read, but they seemed hasty and rushed, such was the shock of losing a friend so suddenly. Starfleet had invited every dignitary they could find, and friends were soon lost in a sea of strangers. Even the pallbearers were young ensigns that had never met the man.

After the service, everybody poured away quickly, returning to their duties. Even Sulu, Uhura, Scotty and Chekov left fairly quickly, with leave expiring and ships with crews waiting for them.

"It just doesn't feel right," Bones said, turning to Spock as they stood at the graveside. "None of this. The way Jim died, this funeral, even the damn sunlight. It's just not how it should be."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "The weather is not influenced by the emotional state of humans."

"I know that… Never mind." Bones shook his head. "It just seems… wrong. Not how Jim would have wanted it. All these strangers, all this noise and fuss. And this damn light. One of the greatest starship captains ever to grace Starfleet has died. My friend. It should be raining."

"Since he is no longer here, it is illogical to speculate on what he would have wanted," Spock said, his usual stoic expression in place.

Bones turned on him. "And what about you? Your best friend is dead, and you haven't so much as expressed one shred of sorrow, one moment of guilt that you weren't there, one second of emotion or something, anything to show you're not just a machine, that you cared for Jim!"

Spock kept his stone gaze directed at Bones. "Your attempts to provoke me for your own personal comfort will not work, Doctor," Spock said. "Vulcans understand that death is a logical end to life."

"There's nothing logical about this!" Bones said. "He should have lived to enjoy retirement, found some happiness in the final years of his life. Too many years he wasted waiting for an idiot who never returned his feelings. Such a waste." Bones walked away before Spock could find the words to call him back and ask who Jim had been waiting for.

The second time James T. Kirk had a funeral of sorts was on Viridian III, a temporary burial on a rocky hillside, with only Captain Picard to say goodbye to a man he had known for only a few hours.

"I know it seems wrong to disturb the grave," Ryker said, "but we've received a message. The body is to be preserved and returned to Earth for a proper burial."

"Who's asking?" Picard asked. "I won't disturb his rest so that Starfleet can make his funeral into an event. As Captain, I have the right to bury crew members on a mission how I see fit."

"Ambassador Spock made the request," Ryker said.

"Exhume the body and make preparations for transport," Picard said. "It seems that even after all this time, his friends are still waiting for him."

The third time James T. Kirk was laid to rest, it was raining. The wind blew open the doors to the hall where he lay preserved, ready for viewing by those who wanted to see a legendary starship captain. But the curious had been and gone, and now Spock stood alone at the side of his beloved friend.

"Jim," he said, in a husky, pained whisper. He carefully brushed the hair back from Kirk's forehead. A touch he had been unable to give in life. Feelings he had not understood until it had been far too late, and then he had fled from them. He leaned in and left a very human kiss on Kirk's mouth.

"You son of a bitch." A raspy voice yelled from the end of the hallway, lungs straining to vent the words. Bones stumbled forward, ignoring the cries of his ancient, tired body, feeling fifty years younger with the anger flowing through his veins. He slapped Spock hard across the face, the joints in his fingers cracking as he did so. Spock looked back at him with an expression filled with pain as Bones had never seen, but that only enraged him further.

"He waited so many years for you," Bones rasped breathlessly. "But instead you left him alone in his retirement, alone to die while you did whatever it is you did on Vulcan! Now you come back here and you kiss him while he lies dead, as though you loved him all along? How dare you!" He raised his hands again and Spock caught his thin wrists in a strong grip, lowering them carefully. Bones seemed to lose his fight and Spock let go. Bones leaned on the pedestal holding the coffin, gathering his breath.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Bones asked finally.

"I did not know if he could return my feelings," Spock confessed. "The human definition of friendship does not involve being intimate, and I have seen how so many of you behave towards your mates. Your human love soon turns to resentment and fighting. It would have been illogical to trade the friendship we had for a few brief moments of intimacy."

"Spock," Bones said, shaking his head. "Even after all this time, you just don't get it, do you? Jim didn't love you like he loved his women, here today, gone tomorrow. He would never have sacrificed your friendship. It was the altar on which he built his love." Bones coughed before continuing, coughs that shook his whole body. "You're both such idiots. He never had the courage to confront you for fear of rejection, and you never had the courage to allow yourself to love him and be loved."

Spock saw tears in his eyes. "Doctor, are you crying?"

"Only if you are," Bones said. "Oh, your eyes don't spill water, I know, Vulcans can't cry. But you're crying inside. And I'm crying for the both of you, two idiots who never understood what they had." He reached for a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes. "All those years you danced around one another, so close yet so far apart. You broke his heart when you went to Gol, and I picked him up off of the floor and bailed him out of bar fights. Then you came back and he was himself again. Then you died and he moved the universe to get you back. Yet somehow you never figured it out."

Spock turned back to look at Jim, peacefully resting in the coffin. "Perhaps it does not matter," Spock said. "The best years of our lives were spent together, and even if we did not admit it, the evidence would suggest we loved one another. Physical intimacy is not the only expression of love." He looked down at Jim with an expression that Bones had never seen, a look of love and joy at that love, even now Jim was no longer in the universe.

The pallbearers came to take the coffin and begin the service. Spock's stoic expression was back at once, and Bones rubbed his eyes like he was suffering from allergies. They followed the procession, joining the handful of mourners outside and making their way to the quiet country graveyard they had chosen for their friend.

"Our lives were richer for having him," Bones said, concluding his eulogy. The rain soaked the few onlookers who watched, but Bones eyes were on Spock. The rain drenched his Vulcan robes, causing him obvious discomfort, yet he stood a silent vigil at the side of the grave, with an expression only his closest friends would recognize as an outpouring of emotion.

Grief, for the loss of a love. Joy, for having had that love. In that moment, Bones understood completely. They had never confessed their love, but perhaps they had never needed to. It had been present in every action they had taken regarding one another, actions that spoke so much louder than words ever could. Perhaps their final years could have been happier, but then, was James T. Kirk ever going to be truly happy without his youth and his starship to command? His was a personality ill-suited to old age.

As James T. Kirk was lowered into the ground for the final time, Bones nodded. The funeral felt right, his goodbye felt final. And while humans had no katra to leave behind, he knew that Spock would carry the memory of Jim with him always, and leave the knowledge of that love behind for future generations to understand.


End file.
